


Sherlock's shades

by blackcrystaly



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominant!Sherlock, Loosely based on The Secret of Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Sherlock is Moriarty, dark!Sherlock, submissive!john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcrystaly/pseuds/blackcrystaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While John is in yet another ill-fated date, Sherlock whose boredom is getting the better of him decided to go the secret place where he hides the smart phone he uses to contact his favorite spider and second in command: Richard Brook.</p><p>The kind hearted blogger's earlier-than-anticipated return forced the consulting detective to face the man before he could actually push under his Moriarty's persona, so John may get to his usual rant about his girl accusing him of desiring the younger man an answer he didn't want or was ready to receive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's shades

**Author's Note:**

> As I have alredy warned this story is loosely based on the idea of the theatre play The Secret of Sherlock Holmes which was written by Jeremy Pauls and Jeremy Brett -who is by the way my favorite classic Holmes- to be starred by the latter and Edward Hardwicke (the Granada Sherlock Holmes).
> 
> This story is neither betaed nor britpicked, and just got the old Word's corrector so if you notice a big enough error or mispelling please point it to me and I'll make it better.

Sherlock looked around and decided that something was wrong. The skull watched him from the mantle on the table as if wondering what was he thinking and the smiley face on the wall seemed to be mocking him and he didn’t even had a gun to put a stop to such situation!

John was away, on another of his “I’m not gay” dates and the world seemed to have decided to make the life of its only consulting detective as miserable as it could.

The violin refused to be played in a soothing way and he couldn’t even think of an experiment that didn’t end up with him evicted -again- no matter how much Mrs. Hudson loved him dearly.

He spent thirteen seconds looking for his mobile phone and pondered his options: he could send a text to John and order him to come at once, but the kind hearted army doctor had warned him last time that if he didn’t have a real cause to take him away from a date there would be Hell to pay, and some threats had been muttered against the coat and purple shirt… so maybe he would save that for later… when he had managed to create a situation that actually merited a summon to the former soldier. Lestrade, was another option, but the Scotland Yard Detective Inspector was still mad at him for a little stealing of evidence he had managed to do under the older man's nose at the last case he had been invited. And maybe calling him -right in the middle of a murder scene after a short phone talk with his bothering sibling- on the obvious attraction the man had for his brother Mycroft and demand he do something about it so the British Government could stop pestering him and his blogger, while they were still on the police perimeter hadn’t been the smartest move he had made. Finally, he knew he could call the older Holmes and ask him for something to do, a little conundrum to take his mind off… matters he didn’t care to think about, but the cost might be a little too high; moreover, he didn’t want to take another case for Mycroft if John wasn’t close to enjoy the chase with him.

As it was, Sherlock was quickly running out of options, and when that happened he had very few ways to deal with the boredom… one he had found out a long time ago, back when drugs weren't an option to fight _ennui_ , one that he rarely had to use when the blond man was with him because John always provided some acceptable distraction. Some days, he thought that he'd have loved meeting Watson long before he did, maybe things would have progressed in another direction, but he was not the kind of man who lost time on _what’s if…_

So, with a strange smile and an odd shine on his eyes he went to his bedroom and picked up the little smart phone he had hidden on a recess at the back of his closet, right after the false wall he had built to protect his secret from a green pair of prying eyes… he had never been worried about concealing it before the doctor moved in, particularly because Mycroft knew all about it –there was an actual reason he called the older one his Arch nemesis- and Lestrade was dumb enough never to make the connection, unless of course his sibling decided to sacrifice the little blue lamb, but since he was as in love with the yarder as he was with the former soldier there was no risk of such a thing happening anytime soon.

He speed dialed to the man that was his favorite pet right now, a smart fellow he had noticed a while ago, Richard Brook, a computer genius turned a small-time felon and then trained by him to become his right hand man and main dangerous, incospicuous spider in his criminal web. He was quick witted, sometimes a wild card and, because of that, never boring; those were the qualities that had ensured his survival on the game and his rising to a Bishop on the chess play he had built with real life, human sized pieces.

The falsetto voice that greeted him had Sherlock grinning in a second.

“Daddy! It’s been so long!” The man laughed at the other side and the consulting detective let himself fall on his bed with a careless movement.

“Richard, behave!” He warned with a dark, calm voice.

He heard a chuckle at the other side

“But you like me better when I don’t’!” His right hand man continued to tease him in that easy way they had to communicate.

“I do.” The younger Holmes said nodding to himself “But this isn’t play time, Richard.”

“It never is since you found that little new _pet_ of yours!” The other replied his voice filled with jealousy “You never have time for me anymore!” He pressed, knowing it was stroking the tiger’s tail.

The consulting detective knew it would come to this, maybe that’s why he had fought so much not to use the phone lately… he sighed, resigned that this would have to be dealt with or it could only turn to worst, maybe it was time to offer a little something to the dangerous spider he had loved so much and still cared for.

“Richard, daddy will give you a pet of your own if you do what he wants today…” He promised softly, knowing that it was the best way to make his words permeate the irate mind of his second.

“Will you let me have a pet for real?” The brunette at the other side asked with an amazed voice, it was almost like a child’s and it made the dangerous man at the other side smile widely.

“Yes, but you have to take good care of him…” He said sternly, Sherlock knew exactly who he was going to give to the wild little thing and since it was one of his best he had to make sure the rules were clear from the beginning “That means you can’t torture him for fun, leave him on the street drugged up, all lost and alone, or kill him without my explicit permission… you have to be a responsible owner.”

“Do I have to castrate it?” Richard asked seriously.

“I wouldn’t recommend it… but you can use cock rings or cages on him.”

“I love you, Daddy!!!” The other said almost chirping and after a moment he shot another question “Will you let me choose my pet?!”

“I already have chosen it for you.” the younger Holmes said seriously.

He could tell, by the way the other’s breathing sound that he was a little disappointed, yet he had learnt when to stop fighting his boss.

“But you still have to prove your deserve to own a pet, Richard” he remembered to the other “So… this is what I need for you to do…” and he began to unravel the plan he had been working on his mind for the last month.

There was nothing like a well executed fraud, a couple of assassinations and the threat of an international scandal to get his mind appeased for a while.

Richard was getting excited over the task he was given, he almost ever did… he loved being the bad boy, playing the consulting criminal role he had handed over to his puppet… and a sweet, loyal one he was.

“I love your plans, daddy! It will be soooooo hot! Watching so many pretty heads blown up… and making that much money! I’ll have to watch my numbers now I’ll be an owner, though!”

“I’m glad you are already thinking like that” Sherlock praised the other, knowing how much Richard needed to hear compliments “be good and he’ll be on your doorstep within the month”

“Please, please, tell me something about my pet!!! Is he dangerous?! How is he called?!”

His spider was such an excitable one, always a living wire…

“Fine I’ll give some information, but you still have to do your job properly before you get to meet and greet… or in your case to meet and fuck!”

“Daddy! Such a crude language!”

Both men laughed hard.

“You may call him Tiger… does it sound dangerous enough for you?” Sherlock asked with a teasing tone and a smile on his lips.

“Yessssss” Richard purred.

“Then, get to work… the sooner you show me results, the sooner you get your pet.”

And with that he finished the call.

Of course it wouldn’t be the end of it, he knew his second, and the man would call him on principle just to blow a kiss on his ear.

Their relationship was a strange but uncomplicated one and they both knew the rules by heart now.

He let the phone ring twice before taking the call, let the younger one tell him he was loved and then promise him to be successful or die trying… and now he had more of a reason, too.

Ten minutes later he contacted Colonel Sebastian Moran, dishonorably discharged from her Majesty’s Royal Army and currently his favorite sniper: silent and deadly. He had rescued the man from the gutter and turned him into another one of the main pieces of his machinery. They had done a lot of work together, back at the time when he was just forming his web, and he knew that even if Moran had always needed a strong hand to guide him he also had the strongest impulse to protect and to sexually dominate, to physically hunt down and possess his partners. He would be the perfect balance, or imbalance -as the case may be- to his Bishop.

The talk between them was shorter and to the point, he told the blonde man that he could finally put his big paws on the little rabbit –since Sherlock had threatened to neuter him the first time that the hunter dared to suggest he would approach Richard with or without his permission-, as he used to call his second from the first time they had met, but he should tread in carefully. The brunette was more damaged than he liked to let on, and all of them pretended not to notice most of the time, but it was precisely that hurt –one he could relate to- that was the origin of the special bond he shared with Brook and he was nothing if not protective of those he cared about.

The sniper had roared at the things he told about the spider’s past, those he had been able to uncover with some effort and deduce from their old face to face encounter, so it made easier to explain why he had been offered as a pet instead of a dominant, and Sebastian of course agreed it had been the best course of action. He would manage to make Richard his on their terms.

Sherlock made the necessary arrangements with the Tiger and finished his second phone call. Being a criminal mastermind and a consulting detective was like playing chess against himself and he loved the challenge. Moreover, with this little exercise he had been able to keep himself entertained long enough for his little doctors failing date to finish, and looking at his clock it was obvious that the man should be coming back home anytime soon.

He smiled to himself while moving from his previous position over the mattress to the secret compartment to hide the phone, he had enough time to put on his mask in place and go back to his virgin/asexual characterization. Sometimes he wondered who he was punishing with the act: if John -with his little sexuality crisis and denial of the obvious desire he felt- or himself.

Some sounds in the living room alerted him he had visits and hurried to finish his task, before putting on the blue robe and walking carelessly to his doctor who was obviously upset.

 

 

“She thinks I fancy you!!!” The man shouted at him the moment he appeared on his sight.

“You do” Sherlock answered almost automatically while letting himself fall on the sofa, ready for another tirade on the rapidly aging _I’m-not-gay, why-everyone-thinks-otherwise-even-the-women-I want-to-bed-so-badly-to-prove-myself-that-I-don’t-want-you..._

The consulting detective waited for the heated words to begin, he was prepared to go to his mind palace until the ruckus ceased, as he had made so many times before… but the enraged protest he was expecting never came. Instead, there was a deafening silence on 221b Baker Street, and when he turned his grey gaze on the blond blogger he found and astonished man who seemed unable to speak a word coherently.

Maybe, he should have been a little less harsh on his response to the former soldier, but he was still trying to get out of his Moriarty’s persona and sometimes, when he didn’t have enough time, he just reacted as he had done.

“It’s okay John… not being gay but desiring me, I mean. You can even say it’s not like that and I’ll pretend to believe you and then you can call Mandy, or Susan, or Lilian and go on a date or three to them, and keep your ‘three continent’s’ reputation safe.”

Watson looked at them even more in shock it that was even possible, and then, just when he seemed about to walk and get physically violent with him, the doctor turned around and walked upstairs and shutting his bedroom door with a slam strong enough to actually made the windows rattle. Sherlock hoped Mrs. Hudson wasn’t at home or he would have to endure another good willed but utterly unappreciated attempt to help him mend things with his partner, as the landlady took to calling John nowadays when he was out of the doctor's ear reach.

It was a little surprising that the blond had decided not to defend his heterosexuality as he usually did, but that could be simply because he never thought the consulting detective was going to force him to face his obvious feelings by mentioning them himself; yet, the running away was evidence that Watson was still dealing with the crisis whilst taking refuge in his bedroom instead of going to the pub could indicate that he knew he was in a volatile enough state and didn’t want to dare spilling his gut to another drunk but, it could also be constructed as the first step into a strong attempt to pretend the conversation never took place.

It had happened before, when the younger Holmes had dared to go into places where John didn’t want to either with his questions or voicing his deductions about the blond. He would stand up and disappear inside of some place in the house -usually the kitchen- and return pretending the last half an hour never occurred –most generally with a cup of tea for each one-.

The taller man smiled almost sadly, it would have been lovely if the former soldier simply acted on his attraction instead of running away from it… but he couldn’t force the issue since he wanted the man to stay after they had sex and that was better if everyone was fully conscious and consenting...

Damn! He hated being a patient man, but he had learnt the hard way that some things had to burn down slowly, and he was bidding his time, even if he applied a little more fire and force here and there.

 

It took an hour for the doctor to get out of his hiding place. By then Sherlock had mostly return to his consulting detective character and was ready to play the forgetting flatmate.

“Fine, I get it, you are right, Sharon is right, everyone is right! _I want you_ …” the man said almost shy and a lot mad, at himself and at the fact that every person had been telling him the obvious truth all this time and to his face.

The brunette tried to conceal his smile but it was next to impossible. It was a good thing that John was currently looking intensely at the floor. For a second, the younger man wondered if he realized just how submissive he looked and how much -and how badly- it affected him.

“John… _look at me_ ” he said, almost like an order, while straightening on the sofa and sitting upright.

The former soldier lifted his eyes to meet the grey orbs. The consulting detective could see the fear of rejection, the desire and the shame he felt over being his infatuated with another man, here in London, where there was no excuse for his “weakness”. But there was more, and he could tell by the posture, the tension in the body and the little myriad of almost invisible things, that Watson was afraid, almost terrified of trusting another one –him- with the dark desires that made his body tremble and his mind go into overdrive. The hunger and need to be owned, cared for, sexually dominated.

He could deduce, easily enough, that the blond had been raised to believe that no male should ever want what he did; he had always hidden and refused to acknowledge that part of himself, the military had been a stupid way to partially get what he craved and then it had been taken from him and he had decided, foolishly enough, that it was a sign to let go of it, to try and live as others thought he should.

Sherlock felt angry at all those idiots that had forced the smaller man to run away from his nature and potential, but he wasn’t one to lose time or thought on things he couldn’t fix and right now the most important thing was to reassure John that he was not a pervert but a sub- _his_ pet.

“John, came here” he called crooking a finger.

The blogger gave a step in his direction, looking at him with something akin to fascination before coming to a sudden stop. The younger Holmes understood at the moment that he would be unable to shorten the distance on his own, but he had to do it, so their relationship would start as it should. He decided he would have to force the issue a little.

“John, I could tell you everything that I deduce just from the way you put your hands on your back, your wrist crossed and the way you tremble and you leg is not acting up at all. I could speak for hours of all the things you want, need and fantasize I do to you, but you aren’t ready to hear it, are you?” He asked softly, while parting his tights and opening his arms in a open gesture, showing him his palms up “If you walk those three more steps you need to take to come over, to my arms, I’ll take you exactly where you want to, I’ll give you what you have been trying to find in all those women and even the odd men for all these years… I’ll turn you over and spank you like the naughty boy you are, kiss it better and fuck you slowly so you enjoy our first time to its fullest… and later, maybe tomorrow or the next week, when you are ready for it never before, I’ll use the riding crop on you, I’ll buy strong leather ropes to tie you up to our bed and keep you there, all ready for me, I’ll give you toys to play with yourself and acquire others only I’ll put on you… _in you_.”

The doctor had turned progressively redder the hotter his promises got, but he didn’t move. His chin pointed to the floor again and he shifted a little uncomfortable, his weight turning from one foot to the other. The consulting detective could see how his words had affected the man, the erection tenting the his pants, but the fact he didn’t try to consciously cover it was a point Sherlock counted to his side.

The blond licked his lips nervously, knowing the taller one wouldn’t do anything more, that it was all in his side of the court. He knew that the brunette had seen through the layers and walls he had put up to cheat and mislead others because he was afraid of giving so much control to another person. And, more honestly, because he had been told and taught that it was a bad, really bad thing to want; a sinful, shameful, wrong desire to have. He had been afraid of hearing those words again, being judged once more.

Yet, he knew, he had know for the longest time that Sherlock wasn’t like that, he would be able to give him exactly what he wanted because he would be able to known it even before he did, and still had enough common sense to give him a safe word if things got a little too much –a bit not good- for him. The consulting detective would take to taming him, making him submit as a challenge, an experiment they would both enjoy… and he had been wanting it since they had shared that first, careless look back at Bart’s when Mike had half dragged him to meet the genius. The younger one had been dominating him since that very moment, had invaded his subconscious and force the fantasies he had pushed under with so much effort by a careless mention of a riding crop being left alone at the morgue…

Slowly, very, very slowly, John Hamish Watson gave the first step to his future.

It was a simple gesture, but it was also surrender, and the brunette in front of him forced his triumph smile to subside, since he didn’t want to spook the other.

Sherlock waited for the next movement and it came a little more effortlessly. Three steps he had said, and he would wait for them.

Finally, after the longest five to seven minutes of his life, the younger Holmes could let the air he had been keeping prisoner go free, and he closed his arms around a trembling blonde who was letting slow tears run down his cheeks. He guided the other to sit on his tights, a knee on each side of it, while he closed his legs, having to change his first plans at once. The consulting detective could feel the wetness on his shoulder, but it was obvious that the man didn’t realize he was crying still too inside of his own mind place; it was always a very special, too strong, emotionally tiring a new pet’s first moment of submitting and every one reacted differently.

With firm but sweet finger, he took the other’s face by his chin and forced his head up, moving to give the man a first kiss on the lips. The doctor sighed and whimpered a little, but then opened his mouth and the taller one’s tongue inside. It could still take a little while for him to actually get out of his dazed state, so he would keep petting and caressing his doctor until he come back to the real world, and then, just then not a second before he would make good on his earlier promise.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> I love to know what readers think of my word, so if you have the time I'd love to read your comments.  
> Just, please, no flames and no trolling, the warnings are there so you don't have to read something you don't like or feel strongly against.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: As ever, the characters belong to ACD; the theatre play to Granada, Pauls and Brett and the present encarnation of the detective and the doctor to BBC network. The story however is mine.


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